And I Kept No Answers
by daemonfoxstar
Summary: SHIELD's Bioterra Project has unforeseen side effects on the Avengers Initiative. Coincides with the films up to the end of the Avengers. OC-centric, with the Avengers team, Loki, and Thanos as major characters. Major warnings. Basically a culmination of all my thought bunnies, and featuring my most prevalent OC. Pairings: Canon only.
1. Project Bioterra Files

Author's Note: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story! I can't tell you how much it means to me- this is my first story I've actually bothered to write down, let alone post. As such, the published story will always be far behind everything I've worked out in my head. Originally I wasn't going to format the first chapter this way, but I decided that this was the best way to describe events up to the beginning of the story, rather than in flashbacks the way it happened the way I've thought it out. Bonus points to anyone who figures out who Overwatch, Night, and Ring are. If you're fans of Aggie2011 on whatever she posts on (I can't remember for the life of me) or Ringers, you might understand the code names. I'll explain in the Author's Note for chapter two, which should be coming out sometime this weekend. Enjoy!

0o0o0o0

Project Name: Bioterra

Log: Bioterra 1- Initial Report

Classification: Director

Report By: Overwatch

Report Summary:

SHIELD's initial investigation of a series of incidents involving fifty-three young adolescents led to the creation of the Project Bioterra. The investigations were initially performed by level 3 field surveillance agents, but in a period of 48 hours became classified as level Director. Investigating agents were codename Night, Overwatch, and Ring. All notes and reports are to be kept on hardcopy only for Agent Night's eyes.

The subjects of the Project have been apprehended. They will undergo testing to determine their specific abilities, and will be numbered according to strength. Subjects are from different hometowns, and have no personal connections to each other or SHIELD. Subjects appear to have similar abilities of varying expertise, but that may change in time. All subjects were aware of their abilities to some degree. Most subjects were relatively easy to bring in. Their families were appeased by promises of government research positions and lifetime health care. They will be sent falsified reports of the subjects' wellbeing periodically. One subject, to be known as Subject Number One, required a special deal to be brought in. This subject will most likely remain Number One in the subject numbering system, as it is the only subject to have limited control over its abilities.

The subjects are currently housed in a temporary facility, where they will undergo testing developed by Agent Night. The facility is a warehouse requisitioned by SHIELD for R&D purposes non-specific to the current project. In 72 hours, the subjects will be moved to a new facility developed by Agent Overwatch and built by private contractors. The subjects will complete testing and undergo a training regimen designed by Agents Night, Overwatch, and Ring. Agent Ring will be on hand at all times, with Agents Night and Overwatch observing from afar while performing other duties.

0o0o0o0

Project Name: Bioterra

Log: Bioterra 2- Test Results

Classification: Director

Report by: Night

Report Summary:

Age: All subjects are age 13. Birth dates range from late July to mid-August. Conception dates are unknown.

Place of Birth: All subjects were born within the continental US. Each subject has a different hometown, but most subjects were born in the eastern half of the US. Others were born in Arizona, Texas, and California.

Height: Ranges from 5'2" to 5'4". Growth patterns unknown.

Weight: 110-115 lbs. BMI 22-23. Body fat 19%-21%.

Gender: 26 male, 27 female

Race: 73% Caucasoid, 18% Negroid, 9% Mongoloid

IQ: all above average, with three near genius level#

Strength: above average*# for humans of same stature

Speed: above average*# for humans of same stature

Reflexes: above average*# for humans of same stature

Eyesight: all 20/20 or better*#

Hearing: above average*#

Smell: above average*#

Radiation Levels: Levels surpass safe level for humans. No averse affects evident. Saliva and urine samples are not harmful to other organisms. /Revision by Overwatch: Radiation levels and type are similar to that of Dr. Banner./ *#

Genetics: DNA is similar to, but different than that of humans. No apparent cross with other known organisms. /Revision by Overwatch: Subjects' DNA is more comparable to that Green Giant than that of SuperA./

*Subjects may develop more pronounced differences to normal human abilities. The top three in all tests are far beyond the other subjects in all areas including radiation, which suggests that those with higher radiation levels will develop more enhanced abilities. /Revision by Overwatch: Subjects One, Two, and Three are far beyond the others as of age 14./

# Subject One appears to have falsified most of the tests. It still surpassed Two and Three, especially in radiation levels. The amount of radiation that appears to affect physical traits in the subjects is almost doubled in One from the levels observed in Two and Three. Two and Three's radiation levels are already 20% higher than the other subjects.

0o0o0o0

Project Name: Bioterra

Subject Report: One

Classification: Director

Report by: Overwatch, Ring

Status Summary by Overwatch:

Subject One appears to be at the same level as subjects Two and Three, but as of the subject's fourteenth birthday (almost a year after start of Project Bioterra), One began to exhibit physical clues of a different level than Two and Three. While Two and Three remain confident in their abilities and continue to put forth effort to improve, One lags behind and withdraws from all conversation. One also refuses to touch the other Subjects or any overseeing agents. Physical signs point to elevated stress- high temperature, sweating, shaking limbs, excessive blinking, excessive swallowing, lack of appetite, apparent loss of hearing, listlessness. The other Subjects avoid One, and discuss One's failure among themselves.

Report Summary by Ring: Overwatch Interference

Agent Overwatch had a one-on-one conversation with One while the other Subjects were at lunch. Overwatch questioned One about its health; One said it was having difficulty adjusting to a sudden physical change. When questioned, One assured Overwatch that it would finish adjusting soon. No recent test results clearly show the cause of this "sudden physical change". The only test results that were altered from the previous pattern was an increase in radiation levels. Overwatch privately retested One for radiation; the results show that One's radiation levels have suddenly increased by 296% in its core, and decreased by 74% in its extremities. The area around One also exhibits increased radiation. While the other subjects' radiation does not appear to leave their bodies, One's radiation now spikes suddenly in seemingly random directions. This may be the cause of One's discomfort. Results were inconclusive.


	2. Torn Dolls

Author's Note: I have no excuse for the wait, really. So here we go; in the last chapter, I really wasn't happy with the format, but it was the best way to show how things happened without using a bunch of flashbacks, the way it happened when I planned this story out. I haven't actually written most of it down, but I do have some notes. Kudos to anyone who correctly guessed the codenames- Night for Fury because Fury-Nightfury-Night, Overwatch for Coulson because of Aggie2012's amazing fanfiction, in which that is his codename, and Ring for Agent Hill because Hill-Underhill-Frodo Baggins- Ringbearer-Ring. And now, without further ado, the second chapter of "And I Kept No Answers"!

0o0o0o0

Fury settled into his SHIELD-issue desk chair with a sigh. Despite his status as the damn director of the organization, even he had to put up with the horribly stiff, regulation chairs. At least way out here, away from his own office. The Bioterra facility was three hours away from headquarters, even in a quinjet, and its amenities- such as this stupid chair- were even more brand-new and impersonal than back home. Fury felt bad for Hill and Coulson - really, he did - but sending them to take his place at Bioterra for the majority of the Project was the best idea he ever had. Too bad he still had to visit every three months to check up on his favorite non-humans.

He eyed the mounds of paperwork waiting for him on the desk, courtesy of Coulson, who had just returned from messing with that damn Stark business. With a groan, Fury rose from the chair and stretched his stiff back. The documents could wait until after he got a bite to eat and some coffee, he decided. It's not like the subjects needed his authorization for new equipment within the next hour.

The facility was relatively small, by SHIELD standards, and so damn empty that you could walk all over base without seeing anyone. Fury used this to his advantage and took the least populated route to the cafeteria. The subjects had personal study time right now, he remembered. Coulson and Hill, on the other hand, could be just about anywhere, and Fury didn't really want to run into them right now. While the subjects' self-sufficiency could be seen as an asset - they didn't really need human monitoring, and would train and study without prompting - it also meant that Coulson and Hill had a lot of free time when they were at the facility. Free time that Coulson, at least, seemed determined to spend hounding Fury about that blasted paperwork.

"I'm telling you, it's like he's allergic to the stuff. What's the point of having him authorize it, anyway? Isn't your signature enough?" Hill's voice drifted down the narrow hallway from the cafeteria. Fury scowled.

"Yes, but if only I sign it, then I'm not allowed to process it myself. And the Project - any facet of the Project - is too classified for anyone else to process," Coulson reminded her. Drat. They were both waiting for Fury in the cafeteria... damn busybodies. Fury turned on his heel and began creeping in the opposite direction. The voices started getting louder, and Fury realized with a jolt of dread that Coulson and Hill were coming his way. Damn it! Where can I hide? I don't know this place well enough to... Suddenly a hand shot out of nowhere and pulled him into a previously hidden room just off the hallway. The door slid silently closed behind him, just in time for Coulson and Hill to round the corner and pass him and his mysterious rescuer. Fury whirled around, reaching automatically for his sidearm, but stopped and blinked confusedly.

Subject One was a damn sight for sore eyes. While Fury had never spent a great deal of time with her, aside from when she first came to SHIELD, he knew her from the surveillance feeds and from Coulson and Hill's reports. Subject One was of average build, trim and fit without being overly muscular, with short-cropped dirty blond hair. Her face was heart-shaped and unremarkable, except for her large, almost catlike watchful yellow-green eyes. She always seemed quietly confident, unobtrusive. She kept to herself, he'd been told, and studied harder than she trained. She was never one to cause trouble, or break rules, as she was doing now. While she couldn't have known that no one was actually watching today, the Subjects were digitally monitored at all times, and an alarm should have gone off when she left their designated area.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Fury demanded. He couldn't reprimand her, or she might tell tales about this little incident to Coulson or Hill. But he could still intimidate her into going back to study hall. Subject One just watched him calmly. Her normally bright yellow-green eyes were tired, and her whole face was pale and drawn. Her posture was subpar as well - most people wouldn't have noticed, but Fury could see that something was wrong.

"... Report, Subject One," Fury commanded sharply.

She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for an unpleasant task. "Sir," she began, "I have to report a situation."

"Go on," Fury growled. If there was something fishy going on in his top-secret facility - so confidential that not even the Council knew about it - then it needed to stop, now.

"Yes, sir. Subjects Two and Three have taken control of the other Subjects and are planning an attack on SHIELD, sir," the girl said with a straight face and no-nonsense tone.

"Excuse me?" his voice rose just a tad higher than he would've hoped for. "That's ridiculous. Electronic monitoring guarantees that we'd know about any situation like that immediately."

"Yes, sir, but the computers couldn't pick this up, sir. I didn't even know about it until just this morning, when Subjects Two and Three approached me to ask for assistance."

Fury let out an amused huff. "Of course they did." Subject One just waited patiently. She was starting to get on his nerves, with her creepily steady gaze. As if in response to his errant thought, she blinked and glanced down nervously. "Alright, fine. Can you get me back to my office without," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, towards the door and the path his agents had taken, "them seeing us?"

The girl nodded sharply. "Yes, sir." She led him back out the hidden door Fury had come through, then a little ways back towards the cafeteria, and through another hidden door. "These are the emergency escape routes, sir," she whispered, "None of the other subjects know about them... I've had to avoid people on several occasions, and stumbled across some of them. Since then, I've mapped them all out." They continued through the passageways, cold white walls gleaming sardonically around them. Fury's mind raced- why would Subject One, of all people, need to avoid the others? She was supposedly the most powerful of them all. But maybe that's why... maybe she doesn't like all the attention. He followed her slightly downtrodden form through the facility, wondering.

Subject One's path took them in a very roundabout way through the base, but they did eventually reach Fury's office. He slumped into his damnably stiff chair and gestured for her to sit in the only chair in front of his desk. "Alright, Subject One," he said. "Tell me everything."

'Everything' turned out to be a hell of a lot. Fury listened, stunned, for over an hour as One described the situation. The reason the subjects' plot hadn't alerted any automated responses, or any of their human monitors, was because it was all silent. Subjects Two and Three, One revealed, had finally developed telepathy, a skill One herself had acquired years ago. They were skilled enough already that she hadn't noticed them taking over the others' minds until today, but only because One had always respected the other Subjects' privacy in that regard. She admitted this had been a mistake on her part, but didn't seem that fussed about it. If anything, she looked relieved to be telling someone. One grimly told Fury all about the others' plans- they were going to break out of their designated areas tomorrow, she said, during the morning training session. They would easily overwhelm anyone in their way and take the control booth of the facility, from which they would be able to disarm all of the safety measures in place for such an event. From there, they could spread from Bioterra to other SHIELD bases, appropriating their weapons and killing anyone who stood in their way. Their rampage wouldn't end, One warned, until they had control of all of SHIELD, and all of their ridiculously advanced weapons technology.

Fury considered the story for a moment, then spoke up. "I believe you," he muttered, noting how unsurprised One looked. If she really could read his mind, then she knew his stance already. "But I don't understand why you didn't join them. If they want to assert themselves over the human race, starting with their jailers... aren't you in the same position as them?"

"I'm not, and you know it," she retorted. "You developed the... measures taken for me to be here without risk to your organisation. You know that even if I wanted to break free, I wouldn't. Not unless I had completely lost myself. The others, on the other hand, have no such restrictions. They are here of their own free will, and will use that will to wreak havoc on you."

"I don't believe for a second that you're not here of your own free will. If you're so much more developed than even Two and Three that you became fucking telepathic fucking years before they did-"

"My position in this isn't really important, sir," One growled, ending the argument. "What is important is that the plot cannot be allowed to even begin. Two and Three must be stopped before they give the signal tomorrow morning."

"And what do you propose we do? The only subject I have on my side is you, and you're just one person..."

"I do have a plan, sir..." Subject One outlined her stupidly brave plan. She and the rest of the subjects would report to their morning training room according to schedule tomorrow. But instead of having Coulson, Hill, or Fury present to watch and give them pointers, the gym would be completely locked down and the safety measures (designed for the agents' safety, not the subjects') would be armed. Coulson had designed the 'safety measures' himself... they could destroy everything in the gym without harming the facility. Subject One would confront Two and Three. If she could not convince them to back down and release the others' minds, then they would attack her. "If they kill me, you have to destroy them all," she warned Fury. "Don't be swayed by false promises or pity. They will be too far gone to save." Fury reluctantly agreed. If she was confident enough in this foolhardy plan to risk her own neck, then he had to comply with whatever she wanted him to do.

0o0o0o0

Coulson, Hill, and Fury waited nervously in the Bioterra control room. From the wall of monitors, they could see every aspect of the gymnasium where the subjects were gathering. There were only three minutes left before the designated start time of both One's plan as well as the others' coup. Hill tapped a pen on her clipboard. The incessant ticking made Fury's eyebrow twitch. Coulson sat on the edge of his seat, his back ramrod straight. Fury had never seen him so agitated. To most, he would appear perfectly calm, but Fury had worked with the man long enough that he knew his ticks. Right now, Coulson was barely breathing, and he wasn't blinking, as if the slightest movement would affect the outcome of today's confrontation.

On the screens, the agents could see every subject's face. Two and Three were whispering excitedly, like children. One seemed impassive, but she looked even more tired than she had yesterday. The rest's faces were completely blank, like dolls. Fury guessed that Two and Three were too distracted to make their puppets look like people. As the last subject filed into the gym, the enormous titanium double doors sealed shut with an audible clang. Two and Three didn't look up until the locking mechanism echoed in the silent room, and the 'safety measures' came online with a hum. Two looked around wildly, her gaze landing on the cameras. She frowned at them... then turned and glared at Subject One.

"You little bitch!" she screeched. Three whirled around, wide-eyed, to stare at his counterpart. "She went to Night! They know! They were just waiting for us to come here, and now we're trapped!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You have a choice, Subject Two," One murmured. Every eye, even those of the puppets, was focused on her. "You can release the subjects and swear allegiance to SHIELD, or you can get them all killed."

"You're wrong!" Two retorted angrily. Three just looked on. Apparently the girl's the mouthpiece... I would bet my good eye that Three is the one with the telepathic talent.

"We can still win this! We just have to kill you, and then bust through those doors before the guns can go off."

One rolled her eyes. "Nothing could get through those doors, and you know it. But tell me, before you make a mistake that will cost you your life... why bother with all this? SHIELD has been nothing but kind to us... they allow us to develop our abilities, to be with our own species in peace. They could have killed us all, but instead they seek to make us useful-"

"And that's exactly the problem," Three snarled suddenly. One's impassive eyes- more yellowish than green now, Fury noticed- turned to him. He seemed to subside a bit before continuing. "They treat us like we're... tools, or something. Like we're not even human. We want to truly be free, to have a freedom that comes from ourselves, like is 'granted' to us by SHIELD. We've read their reports- they call us 'it's. They took away our names, our pasts. We want to live like people again, not lab rats... we want our human rights!"

One paused for a beat before her eyes softened and she smiled slightly. "Ah. But that's where you're both wrong, you know," she took a step back, but the puppets had already fallen into a loose semicircle, backing her against a wall. "We were never human... and we never will be."

Two screeched unintelligibly and Three snarled- some signal must have been given, because several of the puppets moved towards One. They grabbed her arms before she could break free. One of them, an amber-haired, petite girl, caressed One's face. She smiled and all the puppets said at once, "You will die now, my dear...". The girl dragged her nails in a deep scratch down One's cheekbone.

0o0o0o0

In the control room, Coulson sprang from his seat and muttered expletives at the screen. Hill and Fury eyed him, shocked. Coulson normally never showed that much emotion... much like how Subject One rarely showed emotion, and yet now seemed to be laughing...

0o0o0o0

In the gym, the petite girl's puppet-eyes widened as Two and Three started to run for the door. The others watched dumbly and the two holding Subject One released her. She fell to her knees, clutching her head. Blood flowed smoothly down her face from the scratch, dripping onto the floor. The cameras could show that her eyes bled red from the pupil into the iris, contaminating it with blood-red, and spreading into the whites of her eyes. Her face- changed, somehow, as she stood with a slow, feline grace.

One leveled her blood-red eyes at the girl who had scratched her. The sight was horrifying. Her cut still bled freely, but instead of wiping away the blood, One reached out and caught the girl by the throat. She squeezed... and squeezed... until the girl's throat was a bloody ruin under her fingers. One licked her lips- and smiled, a terrible grimace of lip and tongue torn by her newly sharp teeth. She lunged.

The other subjects broke out of Three's spell. About half of them threw themselves into the fight with One, their eyes as red as hers, and snarling. The rest tried to run for the door, where Two and Three were still trying to break through. They had limited success- their inhumanly strong fists were able to make small dents in the titanium, but One was moving much faster.

Subject One growled constantly, a deep-throated, spine-tingling sound that raised the hairs on the back of the watching agents' necks. She spun, lunged, kicked, bit, and tore limb from limb as she made her way through the fray. The bodies she left behind were nothing but bloody limbs and faces. If she didn't kill them on her first strike, then they were left to bleed to death as she moved on to her next victim. Many times, she would be tearing one subject apart with hands and feet while her teeth ripped out the throat of another. All the while, none of the fighting subjects were able to touch her.

The entire conflict lasted only a few minutes of gore and screaming. The watching agents waited with bated breath as Subject One approached the only survivors... Subjects Two and Three. They were backed into a corner, with Three standing in front of Two as if to shield her from One's wrath. One stalked forward, her growl rumbling throughout the nearly silent gym. She was only a yard away from them when the video feed cut out.

0o0o0o0

"Godfuckingdammit!" Coulson yelled as he leapt up and bolted for the door. Fury and Hill followed closely. Fury didn't want to think about what might be happening in the gym- One was alone, with the other two most powerful subjects... and the only remaining subjects. They'll be desperate... even with One's display, I don't like her odds.

The agents pounded on the titanium gym doors, but they didn't open. Fury even put in his key card and Director-level code. The doors were locked tight. He put his ear to the hairline crack between the doors- he couldn't hear anything.

Fury slumped against the opposite wall with a sigh. Hill had her sidearm out, and pointed at the door. "Subject One is out of control," she spat from between clenched teeth. "When those doors open, she may still be a threat. Sir, we have to be prepared to evacuate the facility and set off the nuclear measures-"

"No," Coulson breathed. "One did this on purpose. She disabled the communications, and she's keeping these doors closed. She must want us to stay away while she has her tantrum." He joined Fury on the ground and watched the gym doors warily. Hill stiffly remained on guard, but she lowered her gun slightly.

Almost an hour passed in tense silence before the doors began to slide open... by themselves. There was no immediate sign of Subject One. Fury led his agents inside, guns out. Dammit. There were corpses everywhere, strewn like discarded toys around the room. They were ripped to pieces- many had organs spilling out of exposed abdominal cavities. In the farthest corner of the room stood Subject One.

Her short hair was streaked with drying blood. A river of blood trailed from her mouth (teeth normal now, Fury noticed distantly) down her SHIELD uniform. Her eyes were their usual yellow-green, but still with flecks of bright, simmering red. She seemed dazed- her eyes were unfocused, and she swayed slightly. In either hand she clutched the heads of subjects Two and Three. Their necks were broken and torn, and their bodies equally mangled. Their chest cavities had been ripped open- from Fury's position at the door, he could see that their hearts were missing.

Hill took a step forward, gun pointed directly between One's eyes. Coulson put a hand on her arm and spoke. "Subject One. This is Agent Overwatch, can you hear me?" He didn't get a response. Coulson cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time. "Subject One! We're here, you're safe, no one is going to hurt you." Ever so slowly, One's glazed eyes turned to Couslon. The cut still bled freely; blood dripped down her face and onto the already rancid floor.

Coulson took another step forward. "Listen to me, Subject One. It's over, everything will be alright. We want to help you." One's eyes flashed dangerously red. She threw Two and Three's bodies, shattering them against the wall. She continued to face the corpses, head down. Fury couldn't see her face through her red-streaked hair.

"That's good... you can rest now, Subject One." Coulson continued as though nothing had happened. "We can help you find a place to rest, okay?"

Subject One nodded dimly and sat down, facing the broken remains of Two and Three. Coulson cautiously approached her. He knelt beside the fallen girl. "Ah... Hill will help you get cleaned up. I'll go and get some clothes-" One's hand shot out and grabbed Coulson's sleeve. Hill and Fury stiffened. If she hurt him-! "You want me to stay." It wasn't a question. One just nodded again. "All right then. Hill and I will get you cleaned up, and Fury will get you another uniform."

Coulson and One stood up. She swayed a little bit, but didn't take Coulson's offered hand. They trudged through the filth back to Hill and Fury. Coulson looked at him expectantly. "...Fine," Fury muttered before leaving to find One something to wear.

0o0o0o0

When Fury found them again, the trio were in the subjects' showers. One was clean, and her cut had a butterfly bandage holding it closed. She was sitting on a counter, wearing only a towel. Coulson's face was impassive, but he wasn't looking at her. Decent man, that Coulson. Subject One cut an impressive figure, even as humbled and defeated-looking as she was now. She was slim, and without much body fat. She looked strong and lean, and still had a curvy figure. Despite that, she looked underfed and pale. Her eyes still had flecks of red, but they focused on Fury as he walked through the door. He offered her a SHIELD rest uniform, simple black sweats and tennis shoes. She accepted the clothing with a tight little smile.

0o0o0o0

A few hours later, Fury and Subject One were alone again in his office. He sighed and rubbed a hand against his eye. Damn, was he tired. One looked slightly shrunken, even though she had slept and eaten. Coulson and Hill were busy reprogramming the automatic cleaning systems to fix the horrible mess in the gym, so Fury was once again stuck with the paperwork.

"Alright, One. We might as well get started, so we can finish this up faster." Fury began. One watched him tiredly. "Since officially you don't exist, we have to prepare a digital background for you. Then we can get you into SHIELD's system as a recruit slated for covert missions." One didn't reply. "Now, I've taken the liberty of preparing a personal history for you. See, we've got your birth certificate, social security, high school diploma, transcript, passport, driver's license-"

"But sir, I'm only fifteen. Half of those documents will be obviously false- I don't even look sixteen, let alone old enough to have graduated high school," One interrupted.

"Too bad. SHIELD agents don't ask questions- and if the other recruits do, then they'll be set straight. Your documents are almost ready... all that's needed is a name. I'll let you pick it this time, since you'll need to respond to it quickly."

Subject One looked confused, but she seemed to think about it. "I'll be headed for covert training, right, sir?" Fury nodded, unsure where this was heading. "Then I've got a perfect name for myself. I decided to be called this years ago, before SHIELD found me. My name is Fell."

"Fell? Are you sure? And your last name?"

"Just Fell."

Fury held the girll's eyes for a long moment. He couldn't glean anything from her expression- just hardened determination that this, at least, would be something she could claim. He remembered what she said to Subject Three- 'We will never be human'. While he agreed with that statement, he nonetheless felt a surge of pity for this creature. She was alone, without even other members of her race to comfort her. She was stranded in a world that could never accept her... and she must always be watched for fear that she would turn on that world.

"Fine. Your name will be Fell."


	3. Back With Another Bombtrack

Author's Note: Wow, views have doubled since the second chapter went up. I'm still pretty new to this, so it took me some searching until I figured out how to check for reviews. My one review so far was basically a comment, but I'll reply anyway. Loki, Iron Man, and most of the other characters don't show up until a few chapters in. You'll just have to be patient, but don't fret, they're really coming! It's just that I hadn't quite gotten to the events in the Avengers yet. Again, the perspective changes... so you'll definitely see Loki and Tony's perspectives soon.

0o0o0o0

One year later.

The men waited impatiently for the SHIELD representative to arrive. They surrounded the neatly inconspicuous safe house, some perched in trees with sniper rifles, others crouching hidden in the bushes. There were only two men inside the shack- the President and his Secret Service Captain, the highest-ranking member who actually worked in the field. The men are getting antsy, the Captain groused silently. He kept one eye on the President, the other on the only exit, a concrete-and-metal reinforced door with a DNA-secure lock. The President sat in the solitary armchair, restlessly pretending to go over some paperwork. He was clearly just as nervous about the representative as the men. The Captain recalled the annoyingly persistent SHIELD agent's demands that one of their people be assigned to protect the President in this crisis. They had called in the middle of the night to order him- him, the President's own Secret Service Captain- to remove the President from his comfortable White House bed and get him to this safe house, where they were to await a SHIELD escort of exactly one operative, before they could hide away in a nuclear bunker.

If the situation hadn't been so amusing, the Captain was sure he wouldn't have agreed to SHIELD's demands. The only word he'd had was from them, but he'd decided to treat the whole thing as a drill (Because really, he wasn't stupid. Extraterrestrials, if they did exist, were much more likely to be microscopic bacteria than a magic-wielding God of Lies) and went ahead with the safety protocols. Now he and his men just had to wait for that stupid agent to waltz in, twenty minutes behind schedule, in order to get the President to the safest place they had prepared.

The President set his papers down with a grimace. "Where the hell is that agent, Captain? I want to get this drill over with, I have a charity benefit tonight."

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Sorry, sir, but this drill seems like it might take a lot longer than we thought. The agent should be here any minute."

As if on cue, the DNA-scanner lock beeped a confirmation tone and clicked open. Both men turned to stare as a young woman slid through the door and stood at attention in front of them. She was wearing what the Captain assumed to be SHIELD's battle gear, a black jumpsuit that was very form-fitting, with all kinds of clips and loops for weapons and ropes and grenades... that were all empty. This only reinforced his belief that this was all a drill. Her large yellow eyes (very weird, he thought, are those colored contacts?) flitted from him to the President and back.

"Agent Fell, at your service," she smirked. "You may now proceed to the bunker."

The Captain glowered at her disrespect- she couldn't be more than twenty years old, the punk- but complied. He hustled the President into the waiting Secret Service jeep. On the way, the Captain noticed that the agent's transport was already gone. For the entirety of the one hundred mile drive through dense forest with barely enough room between enormous trees for the jeep, Agent Fell patiently sat next to Mr. President in the back seat, staring out the window with a cool, professional air. She carried herself tightly, moved efficiently, like every motion required forethought. What a strange chick, the Captain mused. The President just eyed his guard warily.

They reached the bunker a few hours after dark. The President stiffly made his way into the safe house, but he paused at the door. The Captain almost ran into him. "Agent Fell?" he questioned. She was standing a few feet from the bunker's entrance, watching their surroundings.

The agent turned to him. "Yes, Mr. President?"

He seemed to shrink from her impassive yellow gaze. The Captain watched the scene with interest. I knew he was another cowardly politician type. "Ah... aren't you coming in?"

She shook her head, eyes hard. "No, sir. My orders are to stand guard right here."

SHIELD sure has strange training missions, the Captain mused as he locked the bunker door with a click. There was no real need to post anyone outside; the bunker had full surveillance feeds from every exterior and interior angle. He wasn't sure how long they were going to be on this drill; the rookie would get cold and bored out there by herself. The Captain couldn't feel much sympathy for her. She was impudent, and had probably been assigned to their drill as punishment for something.

0o0o0o0

They ended up staying in the bunker for almost a week. The Captain had his men take food and drink out for the girl, as well as a mat for the second night, but she refused all but the water.

Finally, the bunker received a call from SHIELD headquarters. The Captain answered.

"The threat is back on his home world, so the President can be returned to Washington. Advise him to start looking at rebuild efforts for New York City, as well as a diplomatic apology to the German government. Also-"

"Wait, what? What happened in New York?"

"... didn't you lot take the Director's warning seriously? We had an extraterrestrial threat, they ended up attacking in New York. A few thousand people died."

The Captain was at a loss for words. He hastily informed the President of the incredible news. He turned a pasty white and grabbed the phone. "You mean... this wasn't a drill?"

The agent on the line said stiffly, "No, Mr. President, I regret to inform you that it was not. Full disclosure of the Battle of New York will be given to you in time- at least as much as your clearance level warrants. Now, you may return home, but the Director has new orders for Agent Fell. May I speak with her?"

The Captain opened the bunker door and stuck his head out. "It's over, kid, and there's a call for you from SHIELD."

Agent Fell obediently took the phone and listened for a few minutes before saying, "Yes, sir, I understand," and hanging up. She turned to the Captain. "I have orders to remain with Mr. President until the Director sends a SHIELD agent to retrieve me." They didn't dare argue with her, as their minds were all spinning with the implications of the report.

0o0o0o0

With the President safely returned to the White House and his First Lady, the Captain found time to go through the news coverage of the Battle of New York. It was incredible- aliens, monsters, and superheroes were now matter-of-fact. My nephews are probably so excited right now, he thought, watching footage of Captain America battling alongside a hammer-wielding man and a red-haired woman wearing what he recognized as a SHIELD battle uniform. He wondered if Agent Fell was a part of all this somehow. Nah, she's just another rookie, I bet.

0o0o0o0

After seeing Loki and Thor off to Asgard, Natasha and Clint returned to SHIELD's New York base of operations. They reported straight to Fury for another debriefing. Instead, he had orders for them.

"A mission already?," Clint complained.

Fury scowled. "Barton, you're not cleared for duty yet, so calm the fuck down. It's just a retrieval."

"Of what, sir?" Natasha asked mildly. Fury shot a distrustful glance her way. Good, he's realized I'm not pleased about having Clint out and about so soon. He should be recuperating.

"An agent." Fury muttered shortly. "I'm still not sure it's time for you two to meet her yet, but since you'll be instrumental in her future training, I don't think I have a choice." Clint blinked, seemingly uninterested. The Director continued, "She's barely had enough training to go through with her last mission, and if it had lasted much longer things might not have turned out so well. You'll be taking commercial transportation to the retrieval site, and there's a quinjet available for the return trip. You'll be bringing the agent straight me at the Helicarrier." He handed them each identical files. "That's as much information as I can give you right now. Have fun, agents." Clint and Natasha nodded to Fury on their way out the door. They perused the files in silence on their brief ride to the airport in a SHIELD car.

Clint was the first to speak. "What the hell is this?" He gestured to the file, mindful of their driver. He continued in Portuguese, since he'd seen the driver's file and knew he didn't speak the language. "Por que razão foi este recruta enviado para proteger o presidente? (Why was this recruit sent to guard the president?)"

"Não há muito o que o seu registro oficial. (There's not much to her official record, either.)" Natasha murmured. Clint was interested in spite of himself, it seemed. Natasha poked his bicep with one manicured finger. "Se ela vai ser formação connosco, ela deve ser algo especial, certo? (If she's going to be training with us, she must be something special, right?)"

Clint huffed, amused. "Right." They were relatively quiet for the rest of their journey.

0o0o0o0

After arriving in D.C., the agents took a taxi to the White House. It was the middle of the day, but since the entire country was still reeling from the implications of recent events, the place was free of tourists. They were escorted through a side door by stern Secret Service agents. The President was waiting for them in the Oval Office.

"Thank you for coming, agents." He smiled brilliantly, a politician's charismatic grimace, full of charm and nervous confidence. He glanced at a corner of the room briefly; Natasha realized that there was someone there. Normally she would have noticed and cataloged the possible threat immediately.

She ignored the presence as best she could. "And thank you, Mr. President, for your cooperation. The Director sends his regards." The President looked to the corner again, swallowing nervously.

"Yes, well, I have a lot of work to do right now, so if you don't mind..." he looked at her expectantly. Natasha smiled inwardly. She liked this girl, if she had such an effect on the most (publicly) powerful politician in the world. Natasha finally turned to the presence in the corner. She raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. It had been too long, she reflected, since SHIELD had recruited someone so young. Not as young, of course, as Natasha had been when she entered the Red Room, but nonetheless.

The girl in the corner was dressed impeccably in the regulation SHIELD covert op uniform, the same one Natasha had worn during the Battle of New York; black, reinforced jumpsuit and combat boots. She wasn't carrying any visible weapons, and checking the common hiding spots in the familiar garment Natasha didn't spot any hidden ones. Curious. The recruit stood at attention, back ramrod straight, arms folded behind her back, chin high. Her short, uneven dirty-blond hair fell haphazardly across her face, in sharp contrast to her otherwise spotless appearance. The most striking thing about the girl was her impassive, watchful yellow eyes. They didn't seem quite natural; in the calming pale light of the Oval Office, they almost gleamed from the mild shadow the girl had made a sanctuary. Natasha realized, with a jolt, just how young the girl actually was. Her posture and steady gaze belied a youthful face. Her eyes met Natasha's unflinchingly, assessing the threat the assassin posed, ust as Natasha was doint to her.

The girl was silent as the other agents hastily bid farewell to the president. She followed them out to the waiting taxi. Natasha could feel those unnatural eyes on her back. It would have been amusing if the situation hadn't been so unorthodox. This girl was sent to guard the president? Is Fury mad? Clearly she's a new agent; untested, without proper clearance, without any experience under her belt- but Natasha wondered if that was true. The girl reminded her of herself, in a way; the way her eyes silently traced the line of buildings out her window, and met Natasha's in her reflection through the glass. I don't know what to make of you, Natasha thought. Despite her training, the cues she was reading from Agent Fell were at odds with each other.

She trusted Natasha and Clint, that was clear from how easily she turned her back to them. She was something of a professional, said her posture and the way she held her limbs close to her body. She was impeccable within protocol in her actions and dress, except for her wild hair and how quickly she disregarded the president. The Secret Service had watched them anxiously as they left, as if they expected the girl to spring at them. Her file had only given them a surname, Fell- and it was sparse besides that. She was apparently only eighteen, but Natasha suspected that she was younger than that. And now that she was closer, Natasha could also see that Fell was wearing makeup; not much, but enough to make her features less youthful, and to conceal something on her right cheek. Her ears were not pierced, and her nails were cut ruthlessly short.

Agent Fell- young and professional, trusting and untrustworthy, regulation and wild, tense and seemingly at ease- was someone Natasha would have to watch carefully. The girl might trust them, but Natasha knew- and Clint probably did too- that there was something about her that screamed untrustworthiness.

The girl blinked when the taxi stopped at SHIELD's D.C. hangar. Clint explained, "We've got a private flight to New York, where the Helicarrier is being repaired. You'll report to Fury there." Agent Fell nodded and followed them onboard the quinjet. Their pilot was separated from the cabin by a soundproof wall in this model, Natasha noticed. Once they were in the air, Clint turned to the girl. "So why were you sent to protect the president, anyway?" She eyed him.

"As I do not know your clearance level, for now I am forced to assume that information is classified." She murmured. Her voice was dry, unused. Natasha wondered if she had spoken at all in the time she spent with the Secret Service.

"We have your file right here," Clint said, brandishing the folder. "It doesn't say much."

Fell was watching Natasha impassively. "Who are you?"

Natasha met her gaze. "Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff," she said dryly.

Recognition lit the girl's eyes. "I see," she said, half-smiling in a way that pulled strangely at the right side of her face. Her eyes were shadowed, accentuating the yellow gleam. "I have heard of you. The Director speaks highly of you." She paused. "However, I don't think he wants me to say anything to you yet."

"Alright," Clint muttered rebelliously. Natasha continued to watch the girl.

"Can you fill me in on what happened? All I know is that there was some kind of extraterrestrial threat, and my orders were to report to the president. I haven't heard anything since then."

Clint frowned, a line appearing between his eyebrows. "Wasn't the bunker sent updates?"

Fell smiled fully, exposing neatly arranged white teeth. Her eyes remained blank. "I wouldn't know, as my post was outside the building." That shocked Clint into silence. Natasha cocked her head. She wasn't inside the bunker for the entire week she was stationed there? She decided to wait to ask Fury about that once they arrived, and proceeded to fill the girl in on Loki and the battle. Fell seemed more and more agitated throughout the telling, but didn't ask any questions.

0o0o0o0

Clint and Natasha dropped the girl off with Fury. He nodded to them before saying, "Alright, sit, I've got to brief you." Clint groaned as he dropped into his chair. The three agents sat in the chairs around Fury's desk as the director paced restlessly behind it.

"Alright, here it is. Barton, Romanoff," he glowered at them impressively with his one eye. "Agent Fell here is a potential recruit for the Avengers Initiative." Clint gaped; Natasha merely blinked slowly. "She's still in training, but if things go our way she'll be doing a couple of trial missions with you two soon. Until then, you're on vacation. Two weeks, to let people cool off about you, Clint, and keep you out of sight until things are more stable around here. Go wherever the hell you want, apart, together, I don't care. Just be back here, in this office, in exactly two weeks. Got it?"

Natasha pulled Clint out of the room before he could protest. Well then. Our lives certainly are getting interesting. Two weeks, then, little girl. We'll see how you handle training with us. She did wonder, though, why she'd never heard of Fell as a candidate. She had done the Initiative recruit profiles herself; it was as if this girl had come out of nowhere.

Too late, Natasha realized that she had forgotten to ask Fury why the girl had been posted outside of the bunker.

0o0o0o0

Clint and Natasha still had two days left in their vacation. They had decided to spend it in one of Clint's many safe houses, in Lebanon. He loved the food in Lebanon, and there was a cute little restaurant with amazing hummus just down the street from his house. Clint had safe houses in almost every country he'd ever had a job in, back in the year he spent as a sniper for hire. They were the best thing he'd gotten from that year.

Their vacation had been great- two weeks to spend with Tasha, sparring, watching corny movies, eating out, and just basking in her presence. He wanted to forget all about Loki and his blue-washed memories from the time spent under his control. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Clint knew that with his skills, he could've done a lot more damage to the Helicarrier and its passengers than he had. He thanked the God of Mischief's oversight for that little break. Things were great in Lebanon, unlike back home, where the cleanup of New York continued.

So it was a shot from the blue when Natasha hastily pulled Clint behind a dumpster in a Lebanese alleyway and hissed, "Three o'clock!"

He craned his neck around the corner and cursed. "What the hell is she doing here?" Agent Fell was stalking down the narrow street, dressed in bright, touristy clothes and carrying a blue duffel bag. It was dusk, and she was difficult to see, but Clint would recognize those eyes anywhere. Fell glanced around warily before ducking into the alley directly across from them.

"She must be on a training mission- we're in the way. We should go back early." Natasha whispered. Clint squinted at the retreating figure. She suddenly dropped the bag and ducked low as a figure dressed in black lunged at her from the shadows.

"Shit!" Clint breathed. He wanted to go help the girl, but if he did, they'd be in so much trouble. They were already on shaky ground just being here. As he and Natasha watched incredulously, Fell grabbed her attacker by the throat and pulled obscenely. His neck burst in a flash of red, rivulets of blood running down the girl's arm. She scooped up the duffel bag one-handedly and pulled the man into the shadows. A moment later, she wrenched open a hidden door and dragged the corpse inside. They didn't come out. "Holy crap," Clint said.

"Well," Natasha smirked, "I guess we can see why she could be on the team." And yeah, that had been impressive, but Clint didn't like the look of the the large factory Agent Fell had just entered. They were in the worst part of town; most of Clint's safe houses were in places like this, out of necessity. And Clint knew for a fact that there was a large underground organization of some sort whose headquarters was in that building. He and Natasha had considered investigating it themselves, but hey, they were on vacation.

"Hey 'Tasha..." Clint began.

She sighed. "Clint. If we go in there, we'll be interrupting a covert operation. It's got nothing to do with us, we should just leave. Fury wouldn't send her out here if she couldn't take care of herself."

"Tasha. Did you see any weapons on her?"

She frowned, "No, but they're probably in the bag."

"Nope. That bag had nothing but clothes in it, I could tell by the way it swung." Natasha huffed in amusement at frankly awesome eyesight before biting her lower lip distractingly.

"She had to have weapons."

"I'm telling you, Tasha, I didn't see any. All she's got is that guy's gun, and it was just an old Viper JAWS. Nine rounds left, at most." Clint started to make his way towards the hidden door. Tasha followed him, jaw clenched. Clint knew he was breaking protocol, but he couldn't just do nothing.

"Look, we'll just be her trump card. If she doesn't need help after all, we can leave and Fury'll be none the wiser." Tasha didn't reply. She was eyeing the pool of blood on the ground as they neared the door.

When the opened the door, they stopped. The guy from the alley was just inside- his throat a red ruin, neck twisted at a painful angle. There was a hallway, with doors on either side, and all of them were open. There were three more bloodstained heaps in the room, and bullet holes in the walls. They still had all of their guns. It looked as though one of them had been bodily thrown against the furthest door; there was a large bloodstain there, and the body had been carelessly shoved aside to allow entrance. The agents crept down the hall. The factory was deathly silent. One door led to a surveillance room with several more broken corpses and dozens of static-filled screens. Most of the others led to offices, either empty or with deceased occupants.

The furthest door led to a large factory floor. As Clint neared it, he could hear shouts, screams, gunshots, and inhuman growling. It all cut off sharply once they ran into the factory. It was empty of machinery, seemingly repurposed for arms dealing. Many of the weapons were strewn about, along with their users. Blood pooled on the floor. Corpses, hundreds of them, were ringed in a circle around the center of the room. They were unrecognizable. Jesus fuck. The bodies were mangled, throats, abdomens, heads torn apart. Some of them were missing limbs. A few had apparently tried to run; their arms stretched imploringly to another exit, which was blocked by boxes. In the center of it all stood Agent Fell. Holy fucking shit, Clint thought as he and Natasha stumbled forward.

Fell watched them approach motionlessly. She was covered with blood; plastering her hair to her scalp, running down her face, on her lips, coating her arms up to the elbows, in a river down her clothes. In her eyes, too- or were those fast-fading flecks of red something else? Despite the carnage, the girl seemed uninjured. She met Clint's eyes, then Natasha's. Her lips quirked up, halfway, higher on the left, her right cheek spasming oddly. Slowly, she brought her red-soaked fingertips up to her mouth- and licked them clean with efficient, practiced flicks of her tongue. Her sharp white teeth glinted dully with blood.

"Fuck," Clint breathed. Natasha's fiery blue eyes took in the scene, and Clint heard her breath hitch. She took a step towards Fell. "NO, Natasha, what are you doing-"

"Shut up, Clint," she stage-whispered. She took a few more cautious steps forward. The blood-covered girl watched her approach, eyes shadowed. "Agent Fell," Natasha called. She was only twenty feet away now, Clint noticed nervously. She kept moving forward, movements exaggerated. "We didn't mean to come across you like this." Fell moved on from her fingers and started cleaning her arms. "Are you injured?"

Fell smirked. "Not at all, Agent Romanoff. Ah, I wouldn't come too close, if I were you." She said, as Natasha edged ever closer. "As I'm sure you've noticed, I'm not particularly safe to be around." That last statement wiped the smile from her face.

Natasha stopped, five feet from Fell now. "Neither are we. Or any of the Avengers, really."

Fell finished with her arms and pulled at her stained clothes disgustedly. "Probably not, no. Still, it would be better if you kept your distance."

"Where's your bag?" Natasha asked. "I'll bring it to you, so you can change."

"It's just over the-" a gunshot rang out, echoing off the metal walls and cutting Fell off mid-sentence. Clint pulled a handgun from its hidden holster under his waistband and shot blindly towards the source of the sound. He was rewarded with a wet gurgle and a smack as the survivor dropped dead. Fell was staring at the blood dripping from her side in shock. As Clint watched, she started to shake, and a rough, low warning growl reverberated from her chest.

"Stay back!" She snarled as Natasha tried to come closer. Fell curled in on herself, swaying on the spot. She bit her hand harshly, trying to stifle the growls. Clint couldn't see her face.

Natasha quick-stepped back to Clint and grabbed his arm. "We have to go." He didn't protest as they ran back the way they'd come. As they hastily slammed the alley door shut, he heard Fell's low growls taper off into a snarling howl that made his hair stand on end.

They waited in the alleyway for a few minutes. Eventually, Agent Fell opened the door. Her face was haggard, and her yellow eyes were flecked with red. She looked a lot like Dr. Banner did after he Hulked out, back in New York. Clint eyed her wound nervously. She hadn't done anything to really treat it. Natasha cautiously took her arm and led the girl back inside. Clint followed them. _What. The. Fuck._

0o0o0o0

Natasha led the girl back into the factory proper. She noticed that the corpses had been disturbed- they were even more mutilated that before, and Fell's arms and face were coated with more blood to match. Her throat constricted painfully. I have no idea what this is, she thought.

The girl allowed Natasha to grab her duffel bag from its place in the shadows and take her to a grimy bathroom. She was silent and watchful as Natasha carefully cleaned her up, removed the bullet (that provoked a rumbling growl that seemed to be instinctual), and dressed her wound. It bled sluggishly, staining the pristine white bandage. Fell's whole head had to be drenched to remove the blood from her hair, and when she was toweled off (the duffel was full of wonders), Natasha's nostrils flared as she noticed that the girl's face was damaged. On her right cheekbone, four dark scars marred the smooth skin. They were jagged, and pulled at her flesh. Fell saw her looking.

"There's some nerve damage," she murmured. That explained the odd smiles, then.

Natasha redressed the girl in touristy clothing indistinguishable from the shirt and pants that were now ruined by blood. They returned to Clint, who was still staring at the corpses in the factory. He turned to them as they approached.

"All good?" he asked. Fell nodded tiredly. "Great. You're probably going to want to burn this place to the ground," he told her conspiratorially. The girl shot him a half-hearted glare before lowering her head slightly and taking off into the gloom. Natasha heard a brief shhhfft, then a bright flame illuminated the factory floor. Fell could be seen spreading gasoline from an open canister over the bodies. It didn't take her very long to cover everyone.

"Y'all should probably get going," she said, as she positioned some kind of detonation device. Natasha and Clint scurried out the door. Fell joined them a few moments later. They hurried across the street just in time to admire the bright, localized explosion that started an enormous fire. "Thank you for your assistance," Fell addressed Natasha. "I won't forget it." Before they could stop her, she ran off into the night. Her duffel bag was gone, lost in the flames.

"Holy shit." Clint said calmly. Natasha acquiesced.

0o0o0o0

Author's Note: You guys have no idea how long this took. I had a hectic last- what, month?- of school. We're technically not done yet, I've still got a week of finals. I just couldn't not work on this, and it was a great excuse not to study. Ahem, I mean, a great creative outlet to focus my attention on titrations and stoiciometric relationships. Yep, that's it alright. Seriously though, I'm sorry it took me so long, but school's almost over, so updates will really pick up soon, I hope! I've got another fic in the works, not sure if I'll post it yet. Similar stuff, really, but the execution is a bit different, and I at least want to post a one-shot of my favorite scene from the other one, even though it really has nothing to do with the Avengers at all. It could be like a teaser, I guess ;).


End file.
